Siren's Child
by PoppyWarrior
Summary: Lorelei is the daughter of two women; a witch and a Siren. How difficult will that make it to fit into a normal wizarding school like Hogwarts? How will she cope with the two boys she accidentally bewitched? Set in Harry's kids' generation, Femslash
1. Chapter 1

The cool, synthetic material caressed her otherwise near naked legs in a way that would have seemed soothing to her, had it not been washed out by the disquiet that had been eating away at her resolve like an acid since she had woken from her fitful night's sleep.

It had all seemed fine, at first. Even a little exciting, when she had thought about it in a positive mood, but when it came down to the actual _day_ (and at this she smiled sarcastically to herself, as she arranged her leggings) all that was suddenly not quite the case, and the only thoughts she found she could entertain were those of how to present herself, and her mental list of things that she would have to remember _not to do_. (Top of which, at the moment, was dress like a hippy fruitcake)

She was wearing her favourite pair of leggings for good luck. They were white with threads of gold that ran down her legs. Leggings were Lorelei's favourite garment, as they fitted tight to her figure and gave her freedom of movement. She hardly ever wore anything else.

She slipped a figure-fitting white vest over her head, and secured her favourite sash around her hips. It had been hers since she was born. It had been passed down in her mother Peisinoe's family for 15 generations. Mother to daughter, there was no other way. She was intensely proud of it and wore it like a crown.

She felt the familiar weight of it rest on her genetically wide hips with the thought that at least something was familiar.

The sky outside her window gleamed, peppered with stars of every size like so many spilled diamonds on the silk of the night sky that was the kind of black that only infinite spaces can be. It was as dark now as it had been at midnight. The sun had a way of waiting until the very last second to paint the streaks of sunrise from horizon to horizon in the vivid orange hues it favoured so much, and that never ceased to amaze Lorelei.

She slid into the loose chemise of heavy cotton, and tightened the drawstrings under her breasts and around her elbows. The first cold snaps had set in only two days earlier, and her mothers had panicked and gone on a frantic shopping spree for winter clothes for her. She smiled as she recalled them running around like headless chickens, fussing over her measurements, and arguing about the right colours, as she had stood in the middle of it all, a mere victim of their retail flare-up.

That had been nothing, however, compared to the wondrous trip to Diagon Alley, arranged by her mother Melissa. They had spent hours trawling the shops, Lorelei embarrassed into silence by her mothers' loud bickering about books, robes, etcetera.

It was all so incredible, but her personal favourite shop was Olivander's (under new management from a witch in her mid-forties, said to be the late Olivander's niece). The shelves piled high with thousands of small, rectangular boxes which seemed to radiate age and dust. Her mother said it hadn't changed at all since she was in there, choosing a wand. What Lorelei hadn't expected was that she would not be the one to choose anything. The witch who ran the shop had handed her various wands; one of thick holly wood, singed black, that seemed to weigh her hand down as she held it, one of off-white ash wood that felt uncomfortable no matter how she held it, and one of red mahogany that had sent a shock up her arm and made her hair stand on end, even in the dry shop air.

At last, feeling dejected by all these wands, Lorelei had been handed one of golden rowan wood, with the warning that it might burn her hand if it wasn't satisfied with her. She had taken it gingerly and, after a moment's tense anticipation of disaster, felt perfectly at ease. The wand was slender and long. It had an elegance about it, and it seemed that the hilt had been custom made to her hand. Or her hand for the hilt.

It had a core of thestral tail hair, which was meant to be bad luck, and certainly aroused a lot of complaint from Melissa, who insisted that "Olivander _never _stocked such _exotic wands_. My word! The proprietor dies, and the whole tradition goes to pot!" Lorelei and Peisinoe had both erupted into giggles, and eventually, so had Melissa.

Lorelei felt comforted now as she took her wand out of its box and turned it over in her hands lovingly. She then slid it into its normal spot in her left sock, pulling on her leather travelling boots after. The faded label on the inside of the zip declared (with some of its former printed glory) that the boots were Tobacco leather. Lorelei had always supposed that that referred to the colour. They had now, through decades of wear and direct sunlight exposure, reverted to a colour best described as a pale sort of ochre.

She had spent days with her new schoolbooks, reading every chapter the other students would have already covered by the time she joined. Melissa had helped her with the basic theory when she started out, and then anything she got stuck on, while Peisinoe just watched her, smiling wistfully in a world of her own.

Lorelei had discovered her hitherto unknown aptitude for transfiguration, and she felt extremely proud, even now, of the number of times she had made her mother jump with her magically-altered hair, height, voice, and other things she had used to practise on.

Dressing done, she tip-toed up to her almost-packed school trunk and shoulder bag, with the cage of her sleeping Northern Saw-Whet owl Luminita balanced, at a slight angle on two piles of books Lorelei had been using for late-night, last-minute studying. Lorelei tried not to wake the little bird as she tipped more granola into her food trough, (Luminita had taken a shine to granola in her early chick-hood, according to the young wizard at Eeylops' Owl Emporium) but even though her eyes remained closed, she kept her ear constantly trained on Lorelei with little jerks of her rectangular head. She opened her large, circular eyes, and gave Lorelei a petulant golden stare, rearranging her oversized talons on her perch.

Lorelei remembered those eyes the day she walked into the shrieking, wailing, stinking cacophony that is Eeylops' Owl Emporium. The little Saw-Whet had gazed straight into her eyes, and she instantly fell for the beautifully ruffed gold, black, brown, white, and tan feathers that crested her head and framed her beaming face. Her gentle voice had also engaged Lorelei's interest, as she despised the din that the other Barn owls and Tawny owls were capable of. No to mention the Shrieking owl. That just says it all in the title.

She reached into the cage and gently stroked the little owl's head. She had chosen the name Luminita because it meant "little light" in Romanian, and that's just what she considered her little bird to be.

She withdrew her hand, and Luminita made a half-hearted attempt to nip her, before falling asleep again.

"Sorry, Luminita" Lorelei whispered as she lifted the cage onto the desk to retrieve her textbooks.

Luminita woke with a start, and ruffled her feathers indignantly, giving Lorelei her full High-and-mighty stare.

Lorelei hefted the trunk open, and shoved her books on top of her folded white blouses.

It had just gone 6:00am, and the sky was just greying at the edges.

There was one, quiet knock on Lorelei's door, which then opened to reveal her mother Peisinoe standing behind it. She was wearing her baby blue dressing gown, and she carried a full mug of green tea in her left hand.

It was easy to see that Peisinoe and Lorelei were and daughter. They had the same long, dark brown hair that fell in undulating curves. They had the same eye shape, but Peisinoe's were a brown so dark they seemed an endless black. Lorelei had also inherited Peisinoe's early-blooming voluptuous figure, arms that could not be called slender; more muscled, and her gleaming white skin. (However, Lorelei's skin had not achieved the porcelain glow her mother had)

"You're awake already? _And_ packed?" whispered Peisinoe as she came in "You really are talented! I came in to wake you."

They exchanged a smile.

"I woke up at five, and then couldn't go back to sleep." Lorelei whispered "So I decided to make use of it. Why are we whispering? And is that for me?"

Lorelei took the proffered mug out of her mother's hand, and sipped at the bitter tea thoughtfully.

Peisinoe pointed up at the ceiling, indicating the second floor. "Melissa's still sleeping, so I thought I'd let her have a bit of a lie-in. She had a rough night mediating the conference with the centaurs. You know how those Ministry wizards can get; so defensive about whatever they disagree on." She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, though Lorelei knew it wasn't all pretend.

"I really would like to meet a centaur one day." Whispered Lorelei, deep in thoughts of how the conference might have ended up. The last one with the Veela priesthood had gone horribly wrong, and her poor mother had been left in the middle of it, hopelessly trying to salvage the discussion.

"Apparently a tribe or herd or whatever the collective is of centaurs lives in the forest that is partially within the Hogwarts boundaries. But now I don't want you wandering off looking for them, young lady. Do you hear me?" She held Lorelei's chin and looked into her eyes, then smiled when she saw the nervousness behind them at the mention of Hogwarts.

"Oh, don't worry, my darling!" she pulled her daughter into a motherly hug, and rested her cheek on Lorelei's head. "You are going to be just fine! Look at me." Lorelei's tear-reddened face appeared. Already fresh tears were welling in her eyes.

"They are going to love you. You are a beautiful, intelligent, loyal girl. And even though you weren't at school for the same amount of time they have been, look at how fast you've caught up!" he stroked her daughter's cheek as she tried to smile, but then had to close her eyes so as not to sob.

"You have learned three years of magic in a month and a half! How many students there do you think could have done that?" Lorelei shook her head. She didn't speak because it would just make her cry harder.

"That's right. None. Because you are one of a kind." She released her daughter and took her hand. "Come on, let's get some food in you." She led her into the kitchen.

"Surprise!" called her mothers in unison as she stepped into the kitchen to find Melissa standing at the table, behind a huge stack of pancakes.

Lorelei stopped crying almost instantly, and grinned from ear to ear. Pancakes were her absolute favourite and, contrary to popular belief, she could pack away quite a few.

She ran forward and hugged her mother tight, then sat down to her glorious pancakes.

Peisinoe came into the kitchen and gave Melissa a quick kiss.

"I was worried you wouldn't have them done on time!" She said with a sideways smile, as Lorelei started on her pancakes.

She ate them how she always did; two on top of eachother, with maple syrup in the middle, cream on top, and then rolled up.

"Ah! You underestimate me!" Replied Melissa, taking her partner's hips and pulling her into an embrace.

Lorelei was sometimes embarrassed by her mothers' public displays of affection towards eachother, but, on the whole, she was proud to have mothers that loved eachother.

"So is everything packed, Lo?" Melissa asked when she had released Peisinoe.

Lorelei nodded, her mouth full of pancake.

"Good," smiled Peisinoe "because we leave in twenty minutes, but not before we've given you this." From out of the pocket of her dressing gown she produced a beautiful clam-like shell with spikes that ran down one end. It was pure white on the outside, and slightly smaller than Lorelei's palm, into which Peisinoe placed it. It was quite heavy for its size.

"It's incredible!" Lorelei said in awe, running the tip of her finger gingerly across the tips of the spines.

"Open it." Said Peisinoe encouragingly, waiting to see her reaction.

The shell was easy to open, and inside shined like polished glass, and was a colour that flowed between blue, green and purple.

Lorelei gasped. "Beautiful." She whispered. "What is it?"

"It's a bewitched locket. It can keep all your secrets, and it will only open for you, once you put the charm on it."

"How do I do that?" asked Lorelei, only now taking her eyes off the shell.

"Take one of your hairs," said Peisinoe expertly "put it inside, and say your name. Then close it and hand it to me."

Lorelei did as she was told, placing one of her brown hairs inside the shell, and saying her name, clearly and carefully. Then she closed it, and passed it to her mother.

The older woman then sang to the shell, in the special timbre that Lorelei had also inherited, and as she sang threads of sapphire blue ran out along the ridges of the outside from where her fingers touched it, spiralling up the spikes.

"There." She said at the end of her song. "Now it is really yours. Look," she pulled at the two halves of the shell "I can't open it. Only you can." She handed the shell back, and Lorelei tested the opening. The two halves parted smoothly.

She grinned at the pleasure of having something that was only hers.

"How do I keep things inside it?" she asked.

"You tell it in the language I taught you." Her mother replied. Lorelei felt slightly disappointed at this.

"But I don't know very much." She said uncertainly.

"Of course you do! You know plenty! This locket comes from where my mother was born. It was so deep down in the river that only she could get it."

Lorelei stared at the beautiful thing, and then smiled at her mother. "Thank you so much. I will take care of it." She hugged her mother.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that." Melissa laughed. "Those things are almost indestructible." Then she reached into her own pocket, and pulled out a silver chain.

It wasn't thick or dainty, but the links shimmered indistinctly.

"This is for your locket." Melissa explained. "It can stretch to any length you want, and it's extremely tough." She threaded the chain through the small metal ring set in Lorelei's locket, and put it around her daughter's neck. Lorelei lifted her hair as her mother did up the clasp.

When the chain rested on her skin she noticed that she couldn't feel the weight of the shell.

Melissa noticed her frown. "The chain supports all the weight on its own." She said.

Lorelei beamed. "This is the most incredible present ever!" She hugged both her mothers, and suddenly going to school for the first time didn't seem quite so bad.

When they reached the London station, the platforms were teeming with average-looking people, wrapped up in their winter gear, and everything was shrouded in the steam that poured from the engines and the mist created by the breath and heat of so many people in one place.

Melissa pushed Lorelei's trunk down the platform on a trolley. She consulted her watch. "We're making good time." She said, panting slightly.

A young boy pointed at Luminita in her cage and shouted to his father. "Dad! Look at that girl's bird!" His father silenced him with a stern whisper that lore lei didn't catch. She smiled at the boy.

Many other people stared at the owl and large trunk, slightly confused, but no-one paid them attention for long.

They reached the stone pillar that separated platforms 9 and 10, and Melissa stopped. She smiled at Lorelei. "This is the interesting bit. Hold onto the trolley, and run with me."

Lorelei looked slightly confused, but she laid her hand on her trunk and ran alongside the trolley. Her eyes widened as they ran straight at the very solid-looking stone, and then straight through it.

They emerged, followed by Peisinoe, onto another platform filled with very different people to the ones on platform 9. They all had trunks and caged owls, some were even brandishing wands.

She took a deep breath to steady herself; these were her classmates. Melissa put her hand on Lorelei's shoulder and smiled kindly.

A porter blew a whistle to indicate that the train would leave shortly.

Lorelei's mothers each kissed her on the cheek. "You'd better get going." Said Peisinoe; she was already crying.

Lorelei hugged her close. "I'll be okay. I'll send Luminita as soon as I can to let you know how things are going." She whispered to her sobbing mother.

She hauled her trunk off the trolley and onto the train. "I love you!" she called, and disappeared into the carriage.

Peisinoe clung to Melissa and wept.

"She'll be alright." Melissa consoled, rubbing her partner's back and waving at the vanishing train with the other hand. "She's our daughter after all."


	2. Chapter 2

She stepped up into the carriage and jumped as two first-years ran past her. The one in front, a young girl with short, dark hair and oriental features, was screaming with laughter, as a boy, taller and more ropey than her with distinct eastern European qualities, chased after her, demanding that his owl be returned to its normal colour, but also with a playful smile on his face.

Lorelei watched them with a small smile, and thought about how few boys she had been in contact with in her childhood. When the two kids neared the end of the corridor, the boy attempted a flying tackle aimed at the girl, and they crashed to the floor, with a shriek and a giggle, as the young boy pinned her to the floor, tickling her. Lorelei gasped, but she saw that they were alright.

It was definitely strange to her, this level of physical contact between a boy and a girl. It had always seemed slightly strange. Sure, she had seen couples holding hands around town, and she wasn't opposed to it, it was just… not what she had grown up with.

A porter outside closed to door behind her and the train lurched into motion. She wobbled a bit, and steadied herself with her hand on her trunk.

She walked on in search of a free compartment. She walked past one that seated five girls of about the same age as herself, their heads all bent low towards that of a sixth, who was speaking fervently in a low whisper. The girls displayed rapt and absolute attention. The talker had round eyes of perfect china blue, framed by eyelashes laced expertly with mascara and shifting behind fashionable rectangular glasses perched a straight English nose. Her full head of fairytale blonde ringlets cascaded over her sharp shoulders and just reached her breasts. She whispered with lips that were slim, but a perfectly shaped cupid's bow, and looked soft as velvet, and she gestured with slim fingers as white as milk, with a peach-painted nail on every tip.

Lorelei hadn't noticed that she had stopped to stare, as transfixed as the other girls, until the magnificent goddess raised her head and halted her speech mid-word to look the other girl standing in the passageway up and down. She did so quickly, her eyes flicking rapidly over the other girl, taking in every inch of her.

'She is new, of that I'm certain' she thought 'and what a strange way to dress.'

Her scrutiny only lasted a split second, with a fleeting shadow of surprise at the back of those perfect, almost crystalline eyes that Lorelei later dismissed as imagination, for it might as well have been when one considered the glowing smile that she then gave Lorelei.

Her heart melted then and there.

'This girl truly must be a goddess' thought Lorelei to herself 'for how else can her face hold such perfection? That of a mere mortal would twist under the strain'

Lorelei was in a stupor, and only when she regained enough composure to tear her gaze away from this vision did she realise that all the girls in the compartment had turned to find the disturbance, and that a dozen eyes were now trained on her.

She instantly turned pink to the ears, bowed her head and turned on her heel. She marched briskly down the corridor, and turned sharply into the next empty compartment she saw.

She slam-locked the door and threw herself onto the seat and covered her face with her hands.

"What a great way to start the year" she murmured to herself.

Lorelei had decided that the best (indeed, the only) way to take her mind off of the girl was the way she always distracted herself; by channelling her energy into something she loved.

She had no way of touching the earth, which was how she preferred it, so she settled for the next best thing, which was throwing the window wide and kicking off her boots and socks.

She started pacing up and down her compartment, which only allowed about three steps either way, and tried to think of something other than that bewitching face.

She ran through her mental catalogue of songs her mother had taught her. They were all in an exotic language that she didn't fully understand, but that her mother Peisinoe had promised to teach her one day. She knew what a few word meant, but they were hardly enough to write her own songs, as her mother had assured her she would b doing one day. All the songs her mother had sung to her as a baby she had made up herself.

She remembered her mother Peisinoe explaining how her music seemed to work magic on people, calming them no matter how panicked, cheering them no matter how forlorn. She had said that her language was only passed down, mother to daughter, and that no-one else could speak it, but everyone's mind understands it. "It's like you're singing directly to their subconscious." She had explained "They understand on a subconscious level, and cannot argue"

But it only worked if she sang in the special voice she and her mother could both use.

She selected a song that used to hush her when she was inconsolable as a small child, and instantly the words sprang up from her memory. She put them to her tongue and wove the complex archaic syllables into the air, trying to fuel them with as much love as she could.

She pushed her vocal cords into her unique hum with practised ease, and faced the open window. She closed her eyes and felt the occasional jolt of the carriage as it sped along its tracks beneath the soles of her feet.

She let herself slip into the familiar daze, as her lips formed the words she knew so well.

It made her think of home.

All throughout the carriage Lorelei's lilting melody could be heard. It filled the air and gave everything an edge of silver. The voice was like the ringing of crystal, and even though the language it used was completely unintelligible, everyone who heard it instantly felt as though the words were wrapping around them, as soft and warm as a mother's arms, that when they were surrounded by this sweet music nothing mattered.

The boys in the carriage felt this effect a hundredfold, and all thoughts were drained from their minds except for one question that was the same in the conscious of every young man aboard;

_Where, or who is that music coming from?_

And the resolution to find out the answer.

The corridor filled with people; boys of various ages in a dream, followed by the girls they had been around, who all bore similar expressions of worry and confusion, many calling the name of the boy they were following, and asking eachother "What's going on?!" They all moved towards the same point.

By the time the song had drawn to a close, an audience had amassed in the corridor, and faces filled the entire space of clear glace in the door of Lorelei's compartment. The expressions ranged from complete bliss to utter confusion, and hands pawed at the handle of the door.

It was one of the resulting CLACK sounds that jolted Lorelei from her reverie.

She turned sharply to look at the door, saw the spectators, most with their eyes closed in regret that the song had ended. The girls had been pushed away from the window by boys at the back fighting for a view. Two pairs of eyes stood out instantly, as they were open. One was a rough, slate blue behind glasses, and belonged to a boy with a mass of wild, black hair. The other was a cold, dark brown, and belonged to a thin, sickly-looking boy with blonde hair that was almost white. She gasped and turned away as quickly as she could, her eyes wide with worry at her own carelessness. Mama had always warned her, time and again, that if she was to sing around people, NO-ONE could see her face or know her name. She had not understood why, and she had not asked, she had just understood that, whatever the reason was, it was probably a damn good one.

She faced the window again, and backed up to where her beg lay on the seat. She took out her sketchbook and opened it. She covered her face and turned to the door. She walked unsteadily forwards until her hand met the glass of the door that had become warm from the eager breath of the faces on the other side.

She groped to her right until she found the material of a curtain. She pulled it across the doorway and finally let her sketchbook fall from her face. She sighed and fell once again onto the seat, praying that those boys had not had enough time to see her face. But she knew they was probably going over it in their heads at that very second.

Both were.

One sat limply on the floor, with the same pain in his heart that all the boys were feeling now that that indescribable music had ended, and the same glassy-eyed look they all had.

His glasses had fogged up, and he removed them absent-mindedly, and gave the lenses a half-hearted rub.

Some of the mob remained staring fixedly at the curtained doorway, moaning and scratching at the door like neglected puppies. Some of the more strong-willed were being led gently away by their female friends, gibbering to themselves.

All he could think about was her face. Framed by waves of thick hair the colour of dark chocolate. Eyes as grey as the broiling waves of a sea storm and, he couldn't help but get the feeling, just as deadly.

The other boy that had seen Lorelei fought passionately with the handle of her door, lamenting at the simple piece of metal that stood between him and that girl. That girl…

That girl with the hair you could run your fingers through for the rest of your life. That girl with the eyes you could gaze for an eternity. That girl with an embrace you would kill for. Die for.


End file.
